


Special Delivery

by SegaBarrett



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby gets some... surprising news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Oz and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: I joked with my friend that I was going to write Toby!MPREG where Schillinger was the (other) father and then... I did. The timeline doesn't even make any sense and this is all pretty cracky, but I like to think it's relatively well-written. Enjoy. Or don't. I don't even like MPREG but I wrote this anyway :P

Dr. Nathan had been the one to tell him. 

“Tobias. I don’t… really understand it, but… I’ve examined you, and I know you were afraid you had some sort of… stomach tumor. But it turns out that you are pregnant. Nine months pregnant, in fact.”

Beecher looked up, eyes wide.

“What?”

“The time for… any other real option seems to have passed. I think… all we can really do at this point is give you a C-section. Then it’s up to you whether you want to place the baby up for adoption or whether… maybe, your family could raise her until your release.”

“Girl?” This was all happening way too fast for Beecher. He went back over the months. Could this be Keller’s fault? No. Nine months, that meant the kid was Schillinger’s. How was that even possible? 

“Yes, Tobias. You’re having a girl. This may be a personal question but… do you know who the… other father… might be?”  
Beecher hung his head. 

“I just did the math. It’s got to be Schillinger.”

“Oh.” Dr. Nathan’s eyes went wide. “Do you need to talk with Sister Pete or Father Mukada? Maybe… They could help you work out how you feel about all of this.” 

“I really need to talk to Schillinger first.”

“Are you sure that’s really wise, Beecher? I mean, he did try to kill you the last time that you talked to him.”

Beecher considered it. He was in a good place since his talks with Kareem Said, but he had no idea how Said was going to tell him to react to this. He figured the only thing he could do is see what Schillinger had to say. 

***

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me, Bitcher. I swear to God, this is your stupidest damn scheme yet. Aren’t you bored already?”  
Schillinger looked at Beecher as they stood in the library, face to face.

“I’m sorry about your son, Schillinger. I know this can’t fix what happened to Andrew, but I’m giving you another child. A daughter.”

“I don’t want a daughter with you, Bitcher! I don’t want a reconciliation or some kind of goddamned… whatever you want. I want you dead. Barring that, I want you, Keller and both of the O’Rileys out of my damn face.”

“You don’t have that choice anymore, Schillinger. This child is as much yours as it is mine.”

“Can’t you abort it or something? Or… whatever the hell men do when they get pregnant?”

“It’s too late for that.”

“Too damn bad. Give it to Peter Marie or some shit.”

“It’s not an ‘it’, Schillinger. She’s a she.”

“I swear to God Bitcher if you don’t shut the fuck up…”

“Okay, okay. I’m going. But you’re going to need to realize that this is happening whether you want to be involved or not.”

Beecher walked away, or more accurately waddled away, and Schillinger slammed his fist into the table. A daughter? What the hell was Beecher even on about? Sure, he had seen a show once or twice about men getting pregnant, but that shit was pretty damn rare.

Even if this was true, this kid couldn’t be his. Schillinger didn’t make daughters. He made sons.

Then again, he remembered how well both of them had turned out.

***

Dr. Nathan took Beecher from his cell to the OR. There wasn’t really a delivery room per se in Oz as, other than potentially Shirley Bellinger, no one would likely ever need one. 

Keller had wanted to accompany him, but Querns had denied it. 

“I’m tired of the two of you and your little bitch-fights!” he had declared. “I’m not having Beecher screaming at you on the delivery table and breaking your arm.   
You can stay in your cell and cool your heels.”

Keller had had a few choice words about that, but he had relented and simply given Toby a kiss and told him everything would be all right. Said had offered to send up a couple prayers as well. 

Schillinger still was without comment, other than that people needed to stop asking him about this shit or he would rip their heads off and stuff them under the floorboards of Unit B. Even if there weren’t any floorboards and it was all concrete. 

***

“Oh God, no, no!” Toby was yelling as he twitched in his hospital bed. Sister Peter Marie was trying to comfort him, while Dr. Nathan tried to direct him, but she was also trying to figure out where the hell you give a man an epidural. Where was this baby even going to pop out? It would probably be better to just sedate him and give him a Cesarean, because she had decided that she really didn’t want to know the answer to that question. Not to mention Beecher looked like he was going to pass out if he had to give birth to this kid normally.

“It’s okay, Beecher. It’s okay!” Dr. Nathan comforted him softly, reaching out and squeezing his hand with her own. “Listen. We’re going to give you a C-section. Everything is going to be all right. We’re going to do all we can.”

Toby nodded and shuddered hard.

“Please.” His voice was a low whisper. Dr. Nathan reached back and Toby felt his spine being pricked with a needle. Then she set up a small cloth tent between Toby’s field of vision and his stomach so that he wouldn’t see it when they had to cut into him. 

Things were all wobbly and fuzzy for Toby after that. 

He was only vaguely conscious of Dr. Nathan telling him that the baby was just fine, that everything was okay. 

He wished Chris were here. He needed Chris. 

He closed his eyes and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

***

“What the hell,” Schillinger mumbled as he awoke from a very strange dream. In the dream, he’d been sitting across from a little girl – Beecher’s daughter, not his older daughter, not quite but this daughter, this one that was his (what the hell?) at a table that was way too small for him but just the right size for her. The girl had blonde hair, blue eyes – his eyes, Schillinger eyes.

She had a little plastic tea set arranged around them, and she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Schillinger at all. Instead, she was simply pretending to pour the tea, to tip it back, laughing and squealing as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He’d never really had that with his sons. First Arlene had been sick and dying, and then he’d been running around trying to take care of them both, trying to keep his family afloat and get enough money to put food on the table.

He’d never had time to hug them or comfort them. Instead he’d lost his temper, he’d hit them.

He’d never wanted to hit them.

He rubbed his eyes as he thought over the dream. The odd vision that didn’t make any sense but had struck him, somehow.

Schillinger rapped on the bars as a hack walked by.

“Hey!” he called. He took a deep breath. “Is Beecher okay? And the kid?”

“Yeah. They’re both fine,” the C.O. replied, “Kid’s perfectly healthy and Beecher is on the mend.”

Schillinger found himself shook to the core that he felt good about that. He’d have to consider it. Yes, he’d have to figure it all out.


End file.
